Travels with The Rayman

Today was the day that we had booked a train trip to Moorpark, CA to buy a car from a man that listed a 2009 Honda Fit Sport on Craigslist.  Our plan was to purchase said vehicle to tow behind The Dog House.

 

 

The train trip involved a bus trip from the Grover Beach Amtrak station (chosen because parking is free) to Santa Barbara.  I can’t even explain why the train doesn’t run.  Who would know?  We didn’t.  It just doesn’t.  So there.

 

So, if you book a train trip that involves the bus, where do you suppose the bus would pick you up?  We figured it would pick us up at the train station that was printed on the ticket.  A logical assumption.

Well, we arrived 10 minutes early and waited until 6 minutes past the departure time and no bus was forthcoming.  We re-read our ticket and I called Amtrak.  Where the heck was the bus?  One man was in the parking lot.  We asked him.  He said we were in the right spot.  As calamity is our middle name, he was as wrong as we were.  NO BUS ARRIVED.  So, as I was standing there stamping my foot because as I was on hold with Amtrak, a big white bus from the other side of the train track behind a big fence pulled away heading south.  OMG.  We missed the bus.  And to add insult to injury I looked inside the unattended train station and there was a sign that said BUS PASSENGERS SHOULD CROSS THE TRACKS TO REACH THE DEPARTURE LOCATION.

“So, what to do?  Rayman discovered an Enterprise car rental around the corner.  “No, no, no”, I cried.  “Let’s figure out where the next stop is and catch the bus there.”  But I hung up before the Amtrak agent came on the line so I didn’t know where the next stop was.  So, we jumped in the car as I re-dialed Amtrak which kept me on hold until we had reached the freeway which took a really long time because we hit every light.  The bus was no where in sight.  We sped on.  Finally the Amtrak agent came on and announced that the next stop was at an IHOP in Santa Maria.  I put the address into the Garmin which had us get off the freeway where there was absolutely no IHOP.  By this time we were pretty much screaming at each other.  “There’s no IHOP here.  There’s nothing here.”  Rayman screamed, “Well what the hell do you want me to do?  OMG.  There is the bus.”   We both looked to our left, and there was the bus driving away from an IHOP that sat right next to the freeway about a mile from the other off ramp that did not lead to an IHOP.  “SOB”, he snarls.   At this point, I helpfully suggested we head to Lompoc which we found out from the Amtrak agent was the 2nd stop.  “That’s crazy, Dianna.”  To which I replied, “Well, it’s close to Casmalia.”

Now the importance of this Casmalia place is that we had decided before the bus was missed that we would have dinner at Casmalia on the way home.  Casmalia is near Vandenberg AFB which is close to Lompoc which is where the next bus stop was located.

To continue, “That’s nuts, Dianna.  We don’t even know where the bus stops.”  I interjected, “Yes we do.  It’s 123 I street.”  At this point, Rayman begins to take on a bluish color and I know I have overstepped my boundary.  Then he shrieks, “…..”.     Expletive omitted.

Then we start laughing.  Inexplicably we start laughing.  OMG.  What is wrong with us?  Why does this always happen to us?”  No obvious answer was forthcoming.  I mean let’s think about this, people.  If we wonder if we are stupid, we would be stupid for wondering that.  I could on and on but I think you get the idea.

Then reality set in and I retracted my idea.  I said, “What do you want to do?”  Between clinched teeth, “I’m not going to discuss it.”  After a bit of prying (and before the next freeway offramp) he said he wanted to just drive to Santa Barbara because he knew where it was and that is where we were scheduled to get on the train.  Yep.  Take a bus to catch a train.

But I digress.

We did what he wanted because he was right.

So all this meant that we drove to Santa Barbara, parked the car, went to lunch and caught the train to Moorpark.  Then we bought the car from a great guy who hails from Bulgaria who went to UCLA and is now an electrical engineer.  His girlfriend is from Albania.

So there it was.  The red zip zip car.  It rides hard and sort of whines at 65.  There’s only one arm rest.  It runs like a top.  And it is a shifter.  Getting both feet involved at the same time the arms are involved is almost quaint (except at NASCAR).

We then drove together to Santa Barbara.  Then the Rayman took our Lexus and I took the Fit and we were on our way to Casmailia.  About half way there, I called Ray and said that my enthusiasm for dinner at Casmalia was waning.  Rayman agreed that to drive 20 miles out of our way was also losing it’s appeal for him so we stopped in Pismo for dinner.

And that’s what happened today.

 

 

Well, people, we’ve done it now.  We temporarily lost our minds and are now poor owners of a 32 foot motor home.  A home on wheels.  A home away from home.  And this is due in large part because of our dog, Beau.  Let me start from the beginning.

 

Some of our dearest friends have RVs.  And they keep leaving us for parts unknown.  Secondly, we like to travel and travel is getting very complicated with our Beau.  That’s because we also like to golf and so when we go out of town, arrangements must be made at distant kennels for doggie daycare.  That is a huge hassle.  Papers must be produced to prove that the dog has the  required shots.  You must conform to the kennel schedule which is usually 8-5 during the week, more restricted on weekends.  Well, that is difficult to do because it cuts into your time for telling lies about your golf game over, let’s say, a Guinness beer, after the round.  And you can’t miss your starting time because the kennel opened late….for instance.

And what about bed bugs?  You may find bed bugs in the hotel.  That happened to us once in Turkey.  See earlier post from June, 2012.  If it happened once, it can happen again.  With your own RV, you can protect against bed bugs.  The bed bugs in RVs probably consist of earwigs, spiders and the like.  But no actual bed bugs.

With an RV, you do not have to stay on the freeway.  People, have you ever noticed that all hotels are located about 5 yards from an 8 lane interstate?  All night long you are subjected to whizzing cars, downshifting semis, horns, you name it.  With an RV you can literally get away from it all.  Middle of the desert.  Middle of a forest.  It’s call boon docking or some something like that.  I don’t know enough to know for sure what it is called but I’m told it involves parking out in the middle of nowhere.  Anyone with an RV that is “self contained”, a new term to me also, can park and stay without electricity or running water.  This is because you bring your generator and a your tank full of water with you.  Admittedly, this is hearsay, but keep tuned to this website for either confirmation or a for sale ad for our coach.

OMG.  Speaking of coach.  I thought it was a handbag but, no, the word has other meanings.  Coach is what many people call these behemoths.  They are also referred to as rigs.  I thought a rig came with oil.  As of yet, I don’t know the proper terminology and thus I’m not sure whether to call it a coach, a rig, an RV.  Therefore, to settle the issue, our “whateveryoucallit” will thus be referred to as The Dog House.  Yep.  That is what we named our vehicle of giant proportions.  The Dog House or DH for short.  Which brings me back to the only time we ever used an RV.  In our infinite wisdom and for all the right reasons (moving close to number one son), we borrowed my mom’s and stepdad’s RV to travel to Tucson to 1. find jobs  2.  find a permanent place to live.  The bed was over the cab and Rayman being claustrophobic almost went crazy with the roof of the RV being about 5 inches from his nose.  I wasn’t fond of sleeping up there either because I was relegated to the inside position which required me to climb over him to get to the bathroom for my midnight run, so to speak.  So, when it rained, it sounded to us like we were living in a tin can.  And that’s how we ended up naming that RV The Tin Can.    See picture below.

 

But I digress.

The thing is, we aren’t getting any younger so if we want to pay through the nose to take a vacation, now is the time.  Because RVs don’t make any sense from a financial point of view.  You must cast caution to the wind.  You must resign yourself to losing money.  It’s not an investment.  But what vacation is?  It’s possible to drop a lot of change on vacation and when you return, all you have are some digital pictures, really.  Oh, yes, and the memories of all the great experiences you had.  I figure with an RV we can enhance our memories with grousing about the cost of gas, the fact that we will only get about 7 mpg, all the hiccups that will certainly ensue once we “head out”.  And the depreciation of the RV.  And the hassles.  Like the one we just created by buying the DH.

You see, we now need a car to pull behind the 32 feet of motor home that we, oops, Rayman will be driving.  I’m not so sure about me driving this thing.  I need to practice driving preferably out in the middle of nowhere.  And the reason we need to get a car is so that we can “run around” while the DH stays parked.  So, we’re on a mission from god to find a car.  In the lingo, I’m told this car is called a dinghy.  Nautical meets land yacht.  And it can’t be just any car.  It has to be towable.  That is, you must be able to pull it.  You can’t just pull any car.  And I defy any reader here to find a list of cars that are towable.  Go ahead.  Google it.  We have not been able to find the info as the google leads you to articles about cars that lead you to some dealership website.  Ah, the wonders of advertising.  So, the search goes on.  I’m sure we are just googling incorrectly

So there you have it.

I’m sure I can state with some confidence that we are the only couple to have a conversation as thus.

 

Him.  “What have we done?  How can I get a cashier’s check to them by next Saturday?”

Her.   “What do you mean?”

Him.  “We need to sell some investments.  If we do it before the new year, we’ll create a tax issue.  Why did we buy this now?”

Her.  “What?  why didn’t you think of that before now.  We could have waited.  There are other coaches out there.”

Him.  “You wanted it.”

Her.  “We wanted it.”

Him.  “Yes, but you said you wanted it.”

 

Censored.

 

So, while Rayman is on the phone this a.m. churning up money, I’m blogging because you have to record this stuff when it’s fresh.  My prediction is that life is going to be hoot in the dog house.  Because, apparently, that is where I am destined to live.  In the dog house.

 

Today I awoke with a cold-like bug and this sent me immediately to the chair in my pajamas.  Only one problem.  I had a dental appointment, a dinner party and a pedicure scheduled.  The dental appoint and dinner party and the pedicure were cancelled.  Would not want this bug wandering.

In the course of canceling the dinner, my friend, Janise told me that Cook’s Extra Dry champagne will cure the cold…if you catch it in time.  I was way past time, I can tell you that with certainty.  However, there is a good, no, excellent possibility that the Rayman will be next in line to catch the bug so I added Cook’s Extra Dry champagne to the grocery list.  Thinking it was  for me, he went here and there looking for cold Cook’s Extra Dry champagne.  What a sweetie.   Oh, well, at least we have the champagne cure in case he comes down with this thing in , say, the next hour or so.

The next job for him was to finish the black bean chili I had started.  Last night I soaked the beans and that meant that they requiring cooking today.  Unwilling to do the cooking, I delegated the task to Rayman (did not want to infect the dish).  That is when all hell broke loose.

First, there was a requirement to find the oregano and the cumin.  That I did.  Then there was the requirement to chop the onions and the bells and open the can of tomatoes.  Then there was the requirement to toast the cumin and the oregano.  Oh, lordy, lordy.

My dear cousin, Susie, had enticed me to buy a new contraption that chops

veggies.  http://www.williams-sonoma.com/products/professional-multi-chopper/?pkey=cvegetable-tools&cm_src=vegetable-tools||NoFacet-_-NoFacet-_–_-  Additionally, I bought a new can opener that opens the can in such as way that there are no sharp edges.  Both these things came into play today.  Before he cut himself, he could not figure out how the new can opener worked.  He tried, he grunted, he groaned.  I finally looked up pictures on the internet.  “OH, I tried it every way but that way” he demurred.  To be honest, the can opener is counter intuitive and I would not have figured it out either.  We both hope we can remember how it works next time we need it.

Rayman is precise.  He is literal.  These are good characteristics if you are fixing something.  But when you add those characteristics to not reading directions, a problem arises in cooking.  Rayman may be a typical man in that he doesn’t favor directions.  He intuitively tries to figure it out.  And that is how he cut his finger.  With the can opener that eliminates sharp edges, he manages to cut himself.  “Gxd d*(mn it”, he shouts.  He actually had good luck with the chopper but he did read the directions.

 

The house now smells of cumin and oregano.  Suggesting that they smell burnt, he replies, “Too bad.  They are already in the dish.”  Rayman is so funny.  Then he stated, “Im trying to do a good job over here.  Don’t f*&k with me please.”

And so it goes in the Jackson kitchen this day.

p.s.  The above picture is the Rayman last thanksgiving.    Cooking.  In the kitchen with Bob.

 

 

A photo of teeth and trees.

 

 

A miracle occurred today.  Happily.  The stars aligned themselves in such a way as to make this happen.  Or did they?  Doesn’t matter.  It happened and I could not be happier.

Last week I read an article published in the Wall Street Journal that was penned by Jim DeMint, the leader of the Heritage Foundation, a right leaning think tank.  It actually wasn’t an article.  It was an opinion piece.  Here it is.

Well, we’re legal for 22 years today.  Yep.  Got married in mother-in-law’s back yard in Montclair, CA.  Hired a man of the cloth out of the yellow pages, brought down a cake on Southwest Airlines (stashed it under the seat…those were the days), had family attend and that was that.  Only, that wasn’t only that.

After the ceremony and the food (which we catered), Ray’s mom’s boyfriend, Charlie, who had been drinking heavily all afternoon, left the party and got on a wreck going home.  So we sped to the hospital and sat there for hours waiting for him to be released.  Amazing that he was not charged with a drunk driving citation.  The police probably must have chalked it up to an “old man” getting in a wreck.  Charlie was a sweet guy and if anyone looked innocent, it was him.

But I digress.

So, today when I woke up, Rayman was gone.  Then he returned.  He had been at the gym.  Really.  What a guy.  The gym at the crack of dawn.  After getting ready for the day, we headed out to downtown Corvallis.  It was beautiful but cold.  Discovered their farmer’s market.  Wow.  It was fabulous.  Duck, rabbit, produce, at least 3 different singing groups, lots of dogs, cheese, wine.  They had it all.  And it was held on the promenade that runs along the Willamette River. Fun morning.  Then we picked up Ryan and went wine tasting.  Actually, to be more precise, they went wine tasting.  I was the designated driver.  Beaumeister was my company.

 

 

Oregon is a great place.  Of course, it wasn’t raining.  The rain is arriving about the time we tee off at Bandon Dunes on Monday.  I’m quite sure of it.  It is in the forecast.  But today, well, it was glorious.  Warm.  Sunny.

We stopped in McMinnville and enjoyed a Spanish tapas lunch.  Practicing our eating for Spain next year.  Bacon dates, calamari, pork, potatoes, manchego cheese with honey, apple, EVOO and spicy nuts.  And Spanish wine to wash it down.  Yummy stuff.

 

So, let me digress.  Last night after dinner at a Brazilian restaurant, we scurried back to the hotel to watch Bill Maher on HBO.  Turned it on and some lame movie was in his time slot.  OMG.  This was a total and complete bummer.  So, I spent the evening reading a book entitled “Do Me”.  A book of short stories.  I will let you, dear reader, figure it out.  Thought it was a good choice for anniversary trip!!  Then I woke up at 2 a.m. and couldn’t go back to sleep.  Rayman was writhing and wiggling around and he hadn’t even read the book.  Well, this a.m. he explained that zombies were after him and needed a pair of scissors because the only way the zombies could be killed is by cutting up newspaper.   Really, folks.  I’m not kidding here.   My dreams were centered around winning a contest that involved tits and that’s all I’m going to say on that subject.  Oh, I can tell you that Rayman was driving me to Santa Maria to drop a car off at a gas station and that is where I met a woman that loaned me a dress and wedge shoes that figured prominently in the plot.  I was worried that he had not notified his office that he was going to be late for work.  Additionally, I didn’t notify my office either.  OMG.  I was beside myself.  I was probably wiggling and writhing too.  I was still awake at 4.  But enough about sweet dreams.

So, guys being guys, I learned a lot about college football today as I escorted the two around the countryside.  Did I mention that Rayman joined a wine club.  Yep.  Van Duzen…know for it’s pinots.  And Van Duzen also happened to be Beau’s favorite winery as I left him off the leash and he bounded around the grassy knoll with free abandon.  Not a care in the world, that dog.  Van Duzen was perched on a hill only accessible by a dusty dirt road.  The car was trashed by the dust and gravel.  So, when we returned to Corvallis, we headed for a car wash that required us to stay in the car.  Beau was totally traumatized as he hit the back seat floor and stayed there until we emerged from the other end of the car wash tunnel.

In the name of full discloser, we did not get lost today but that was because Ryan told us where to go.  Therefore, I have absolutely no tales of  being lost in space and so I apologize because those stories add so much color and interest to a blog.

We did see a standard poodle prancing down Main Street with it’s master’s purse in it’s mouth.  That was a great scene and one I endeavored to record on my iphone but alas, when I turned to go around the block, I was foiled by a dead end street.  Ugh.  So, no proof of sighting.

Drats.

Tomorrow we head south to Bandon Dunes.  It sits right on the ocean.  Here’s a link for those with any interest in where we will be.

http://www.bandondunesgolf.com/pages/bandon_dunes/49.php

 

 

In blogs past I have used my humor, such as it is, to share my travels with the Rayman.  Today, I stop and hit the restart button to switch gears a bit.

California is a fabulous place, really.  And while it is no surprise to most of you, one of the reasons that I love this state is that it is a blue one.  But enough about the ocean.

We spent last night in Vacaville.  For heaven’s sakes, who names a town “Cow Town”?  No chamber of commerce involved in that one.   But I digress.

The night was murderous for sleeping.  We checked into a Hampton Inn that sat right next to an on ramp to the 80 freeway.  OMG.  All night long I attempted to sleep with my fingers in my ears.  It was so loud because all the drivers were ACCELERATING to merge.  Ugh.  Oh, well.  This morning we found a dog park at a park in Vacaville and it was lovely.  A crisp morning but not really cold.  There was a lake, hawks, swans, geese, runners, walkers, horse trailers, and the dog park.  Beau was the only visitor so we had the run of the place.  Great start to a morning.  We then jumped in the car, returned to the hotel, cleaned up, checked out.  And zoomed on to that on-ramp just outside our hotel window.

Driving up highway 5 is a very pretty ride.  It is fun to watch the vista change as well as the flora as you move north.  From a wide, flat valley to a windy, hilly terrain.  And the trees from almost none to forests.  Much like leaving Sacramento for Tahoe.  It’s much more pleasant though because the traffic is light in comparison.  I spotted a sign for the Sacramento Wildlife Refuge so we decided to go and see some birds.  Only the place was closed because of the gov’t shutdown.  Really.  It was a National Preserve.  The House Republicans are wacko birds.  And that’s the truth.  Glad we didn’t decide to swing by Crater Lake on this trip.

So, we turned back to the highway and continued north.  While Ray drove, I googled Yelp and found a restaurant in Redding that sounded good.  And boy was it.  Moonstone Bistro.  Duck confit tacos with a mango salsa.  Yummy.  Rayman had a flatiron steak.  We ate our main meal at lunch.  And we followed it up with an apple pie ala mode.  Yummy times two.

Lake Shasta is really low.  Down substantially because of drought.  It looks a bit sad.  Our water woes continue in our fine state.  And did I mention the new grapes being planted.  And the trees?  Miles of them along the highway.  But what about that water?

At the north end of the lake, there is major construction going on and we didn’t see why they were doing it.  Palms greased, perhaps.  The metro areas need it more than up here.  Still scratching our heads on that one.  Actually, the Salinas valley needs it more than up here.  You take your life in your hands when you drive 101 to Salinas as the ag trucks jut out from side roads onto 101.  No on ramps at all.  They need to put the freeway over or under that stretch.  It is way dangerous.

But I digress.

We drove by a heavy machinery auction site today.  I suggested we bid on a flatbed truck.  But failing to come up with a good reason, that idea melted away.  Then we saw an RPOD.  It was like a….let me just give you a website to view.  http://www.allseasonsrv.com/cf/shopmast/productdetailp.cfm?productid=1063

Maybe we could get one of these?  Well, the Rayman does suffer from claustrophobia so that might not work.  But we discussed it.

We passed one small RV driven by a lone older woman.  Pretty cool.  You go girl.  A free spirit afraid of not much, I’d say.  Actually I admire people that are unafraid.  Not unafraid like bungie jumping.  But unafraid like going somewhere alone…unafraid.  Many of my friends are afraid of many things.  It stops them from doing things.  Heck, it stops me too.  I’m not immune.  However, I am finding that I am less afraid that many of them.  I think it allows me more freedom.  May be wrong about this.  Just saying.

Redding is a lovely town (100k people, I think).  What I love about Redding is that the Sacramento River flows through it.  The Sacramento River is so impressive, existing as it does in our parched state.  I could live in Redding if I had a house on the river.  Watching water flow by would be relaxing, soothing.   And the Sundial Bridge is a must-see and a must-walk on attraction.

After Redding, you start climbing.  Before you know it, you are at 2,000 feet.  Rayman has a ski app that gives altitude.  Very cool.  Here in Mt. Shasta, the elevation is 3,700.  Getting up there.  A bit of huffing and puffing when climbing the stairs to our hotel room.  But the climb is worth it.  Our room looks directly at Mt. Shasta.  OMG.  What a fabulous mountain Mt. Shasta is.  And it is with snow now.  Beautiful, wild sight.  So, well, volcanic looking.   We arrived here about 3 ish.  One of the first to check in.  After getting settled, we set out on a hunt for earrings.  Now, people, I have big lobes.  Both in my brain (I saw the yesterday), and my ears.  So, I prefer non-dangling earrings.  But I am here to report that there were no non-dangling earrings in the town of Mt. Shasta…that I could bare to wear.  About 5 sets and none of them were suitable for the Traveling Princess.  I needed new earrings because I forgot my earrings.  They are sitting at home.  Ugh.  So, the search will continue as we move north.

Rayman was in charge of Beau while we walked the two blocks of what constitutes “downtown” Mt. Shasta.  It is an interesting town.  Fully 50-67% of the stores are of the “hippy” variety.  You know.  Incense, buddha heads, long flowing tye-dyed robes, mid-Eastern and Asian cheap artifacts.  The busiest store was the mid-Easter and Asian store.  I’ve never seen so much junk in my life but it smelled pretty good.  And all these people still stuck in the 60s and many of them hadn’t even been born yet.  A sight to behold.  Everyone should visit this store.  It is a scream.  There were 4 stores that were quite nice.  That was it.  So, Rayman stood outside as I rummaged through all these places looking for non-dangling earrings.  He met a couple that had been in their motor home for 2 years.  They lived in the bay area, sold their home, and went on the road.  They have been across the country and have seen everything they wanted to see.  They are contemplating buying a house and settling down.  Only they think maybe they will park their rig in the bay area and when the weather turns cold, perhaps they will go to San Diego.  Great story.  They said they have thoroughly enjoyed their sojourn.   Chase the weather and change the scenery.  It does have appeal as an idea.

Alas, not everything is perfect.  Uncle Ralph was on his way to the dentist in Paso this a.m. and he became disoriented.  The Dr. was called.  He was whisked away to the hospital.  Spent most of the day there.  Came home with a monitor on his heart that feeds data directly to San Francisco where it is being monitored.  If it acts up, he’s off to the hospital again.  As we drove, texts were issued and received.  Phone calls made.  Very unrelaxing.  The good news tonight is that he is home and his mind is more at ease.  We contemplated returning.  May still need to but right now all is well.

And then, the Rayman struck.  He said, “There is a wrinkle in our plans.”

“What?  I inquired.

“Ryan has to work on Thursday.”

“WHAT?”

“Well, he texted us a few days ago and mentioned that he had to know what day to ask for as his day off.  I didn’t ….get back to him.”

“WHAT?”

At this point let me skip ahead and say that this is the second time in as many times that we traveled north to see Ryan and things have gotten “screwed” up.  I was not a happy camper.  What is it about that two highly intelligent men can’t get travel arrangement right?

All this resulted in us extending our stay one more night in Corvallis so we could see Ryan for more than 4 hours.  OMG.

So, now it is time to watch the Daily Show except that I turned on the TV and he was ending his show.  OMG.

I’m tired and I think I’ll sign off now.  And that’s the way it was, Tuesday from northern California.

I think humor may return tomorrow.  Our plan is to go to Klamath Falls, drop Beau off for doggie daycare and then play golf at Runny Y resort where we are staying.  After golf, we spring the doggie from doggie prison (his interpretation, I’m sure) and go back to Runny Y to spend the night.  There was a frost delay today until almost 10 a.m as reported to me by the pro shop.  So…we have an 11 a.m. starting time.  Luckily I packed my silk underwear.  Just saying.

 

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